Status: Terminated
by SheisNoLongerHere
Summary: (StEx) Greaseball is doing his usual duty until he comes across a body on the bridge, and one body leads to another and another. Humor at the end, though, the rest is angst. WARNING: I kill off five characters in the beginning... be forwarned...
1. Chapter One: The Discovery

Status Terminated  
  
  
  
It was a normal day, like any other. Boring. Greaseball, the 'Might' Union Pacific, felt pretty down today, as he hauled his usual load. From here to there, he pulled his weight, becoming nothing more than just a taxi service. Today's carriages, the Rockies...  
  
"Stop pushing!" growled Rocky II to Rocky III, and the two stopped the train and began a boxing fit.  
  
Rocky came tot he rescue, only to have a punch and soon join into the fray. "Cut it out!"  
  
"Quit pulling my couples!"  
  
"I'm not pulling you- OUCH!"  
  
Suddenly, all three boxcars were on the floor, each doubled over in pain. Greaseball stood over them with a curled fist; he was not in a good mood for games at all, and they're constant bickering was NOT helping in the least. "Shut the hell up or I will beat the living beings out of you!"  
  
"But Greaseball-" Rocky III began.  
  
"We don't have living beans inside of us!" added Rocky with a wink.   
  
Rocky II demonstrated as he bashed his own head and chest, letting the echo reverberate. "Empty!"   
  
The diesel rolled his eyes under the shaded helmet. "Riggggggght..."  
  
The Rockies didn't get it at all, so they just coupled themselves again and continued on their merry way.   
  
'Maybe next year I'll have more luck...' Greaseball thought, still dwelling on the race he lost to that little steamer, Rusty. Not, believe it or not, he was the champ, and here was Greaseball, filling in his duties. "This sucks..."  
  
Rocky rose his head, "Bucks? Where? I love running those over!"  
  
"I said you suck, now hush!"  
  
"OH..."  
  
Immediately the boxcar silenced again. The diesel train was in a really crappy mood.  
  
As you also might has noticed, Greaseball had not converted into a steam train as he said he would have. It was not worth the trouble, and after meeting with Electra (which was kept a secret, even though everyone knew about it), Wrench had him fixed and ready to go again, same with Electra. It had an insane price (which Electra held over his head for a long time), but there was absolutely NO way this diesel was to become a rotten steamer.   
  
He then wondered what had happened to Electra; after the secret meeting, he lost contact with him (except when Purse came to collect his money). Not like he wanted to talk to him anyway, at least not for personal reasons.   
  
But his concentration was shattered as they rolled over the bridge, Rocky III gave an ear piercing shriek. The train came to an abrupt stop, causing a train reaction. Greaseball threw the Rockies off of him as he rose.   
  
"Man, that was my ear!" Rocky II swerved to punch his brother. Greaseball went to do the same until he saw how pale the youngest of the Boxcars was trembling insanely. Something was wrong.  
  
The oldest asked, a bit of concern in his voice. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost!"  
  
"Don't be silly, there are no such thing as ghosts!" Greaseball growled.  
  
"Something..." Rocky III pointed. "Down there!"  
  
The boxcar was trembling too much to speak right now, and Greaseball took a riskful glance at the edge of the bridge.  
  
So did the other Rockies.  
  
At first he saw nothing because of the tented window, but as he turned on his lights, he saw the outlines of what appeared to be a body. Greaseball had a guess of what happened, as he now noticed a horrible dent in one of the railings.  
  
"Who... is... that?" Rocky asked, squinting to see the truck below.  
  
"Can't tell..." proclaimed Rocky II. He turned to comfort his brother (actually was going to knock some sense back into him), when he screamed, pointing to what he discovered laying on the tracks in the shadows. "AHHHHHH! IT'S A DEAD LADY!"  
  
Greaseball, who was trying to identify the body at the bottom of the bridge, swerved and looking in the direction of Rocky II's trembling arm. This one was easy to recognized. A component, by the looks of the outfit, and her red and white frame was completely totaled. Greaseball could not hold his gasp. "Joule..."  
  
The Dynamite truck's red eyes were gazed over, and some kind of fluid flowed from her mouth. It was still wet, but it was cold. She was dead, and by the looks, it was some kind of crash.  
  
"A train wreck maybe?" Rocky asked, and Greaseball looked to see the three boxcars hugging onto each other. "Yeah, a wreck!"  
  
"A horrible wreck!" Rocky II whimpered.  
  
"A DEAD WRECK!" screamed Rocky III.  
  
"Calm down!" Greaseball growled, waving a clenched fist over their heads, silencing their cries. "We're getting no where by screaming out motors out!"  
  
Again, Greaseball glanced at Joule, and then he turned to look over the side of the railing. He could only guess exactly who it was, but he had a feeling it was either Electra or another component.   
  
He started to climb over the rails, and Rocky II asked, "Where are you going?"  
  
"To see who the other body is," Greaseball answered, almost loosing his balance as his wheels hit the slope. The Rockies gave him a look that begged him to stay, but he ignored it. He had easy control over his emotions. "I'll be back."  
  
"But what if you don't?" asked Rocky III in a trembling voice.  
  
"What do you mean 'what if I don't come back?'"  
  
"What if it was a murder?"  
  
"Murder?"  
  
The boxcars nodded.  
  
"That's insane!" spat Greaseball, beginning to decline. He laughed, trying to liven the mood up for them. It was obvious that they were not used to seeing a fatal train wreck before, he thought, pitying them. He seen plenty enough to learn from their mistakes. "Murders within trains is preposterous!"  
  
"Yeah, per-posterosis!" nodded Rocky, trying to calm his brothers down.  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"It means you're acting silly!"  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"With Greaseball!"  
  
"Why? You scared too?"  
  
"Of course not!" Rocky quickly turned away to hide his pale face, and he kept his leg from trembling. He wasn't scared, he was terrified! "You two be quite and wait for us to come back now!"  
  
With that, the Diesel train and the oldest boxcar left, leaving the trembling trucks to just tremble on their own. It took awhile for Greaseball and Rocky to descent to the bottom, and each of them took their share of slipping up. Slightly out of breath, Greaseball panted lightly, trying to regain his wind. But Rocky cartwheel, showing he was in perfect shape. 'Stupid freight...'   
  
"Would you stop fooling around?" Greaseball sneered, wanting to wipe that silly grin off of Rocky's dirty face. "Let's go find that body..."  
  
Rocky saluted, never a supporter of diesel but managing to hold a truce. "Aye-aye, GB!"  
  
Rolling his eyes, Greaseball began the search. However, it did not take long for them to find the demolished body of Electra's very own bodyguard. Rocky noticed something before Greaseball did, which was a first. Hew spoke in a high pitched voice, somewhat like an old granny. "Oh... his little head fell off!"  
  
"Rocky... that's not funny..."  
  
The gray truck's head was not too far away, but neither of the two had the guts or wit to bring it back to its body.   
  
Poor Rocky was trying to come up with a simple solution of the situation. "So, he just fell off the bridge and the impact of the ground caused his head to shoot off, right?"  
  
Greaseball looked at the dented body, then at the head. With his foot, he turned it over to face him, and Rocky ran away to puke. Krupp stared at him with those dead eyes, and it was a clean cut. Greaseball's face paled a bit. It looked as if it happened before Krupp's inevitable fall. The diesel's face tightened in thought, and he followed Rocky to make sure he was alright.  
  
He found the boxcar a few meters away, bent over and releasing his vomit. The Union Pacific kept his distance until he was done, and he asked, "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah... I think I lost my lunch, though..." Rocky turned to Greaseball, but the engine was looking elsewhere. "What?"  
  
"Don't look, just get back up to the bridge and go fetch the marshals." Greaseball ordered, not taking his eyes off of whatever he was looking at. "Go already..."  
  
The boxcar had the wits to obey him, and he scrambled to his feet and started climbing, not daring to look back. Greaseball was thankful that Rocky was the smarter of the three, and now that he was gone, Greaseball flashed his lights to get a better look at the new bodies.   
  
One was laying on top of the other, and the one on top was Wrench, bent over the prone body of Volta. He could tell they were both dead, and the Repair's truck's back was ripped to shreds, while Volta looked to be in the worse condition yet. Her head was halfway off her shoulders, dangling on her left shoulder, as Greaseball noticed her limps were in every which away. Wrench's arms were wrapped around her, holding her close, even to death, and Greaseball could only wonder who would be sick enough to mutilate their bodies after death? Greaseball was disgusted with the sight, yet he could not understand the small smile that lingered on Volta's face, nor the serene look of Wrench.  
  
They seemed happy to die.... Maybe happy to die together, Greaseball thought, suddenly feeling the urge to vomit. And even the might Greaseball could not resist it anymore.  
  
Who the hell was this sick, he wondered. No, this was no train wreck now... decapitation and mutilation was not the results of an accident. And now he wondered; what happened to the last two? The Engine and his obviously favorite Money Truck?  
  
"Electra!" Greaseball called out after wiping his mouth with his hand. He heard nothing but an echo, and in spite of himself, he expected and feared that the worse happened to them. "Purse!"  
  
He was alone (well, if you don't count that dead bodies), and he really wondered if he wanted to find them or not. So far he saw a crushed Joule, a decapitated Krupp, and two butchered femme components, and he could only think of how bad Purse and Electra could be.   
  
"God... this makes me sick..." Greaseball groaned, looking up and hoping that Rocky was doing his task. Until then, he would have to wait...  
  
All thoughts were shattered when something shiny caught his eyes. Someone was out there; he was not along anymore. He heard a faint sound in the distant... sounded like someone crying...  
  
He followed the sounds into the darkness, praying that his head lights would be powerful enough to cut through the shadows. The cries got stronger and stronger until he reached the darkest part, finally noticing a railroad track. It was dusted and rusted, worn in its years, but there was something... something familiar about those tracks. It led tot he opening to an old mine... an Old Abandoned mine... Greaseball blinked. This place...  
  
Horrible memories overcame his sense now, as he just stared there. He could see himself, the youngest and smallest engine, only a few years old, hauling big hoppers and various freights, filled with grimy coal and oil...  
  
Why did it have to lead here?  
  
Greaseball wanted to turn and leave this place. Maybe he can tell the marshals to look here... he hadn't the nerve to enter those mines.  
  
Again, something caught his eyes, and he looked to his left and spotted two more bodies, cut short of the entrance to the abandoned mines. Except this time... one of them was alive...  
  
"Electra..."  
  
It was him who was crying, and as he backed up, he could see why. In the AC-DC's engines arms was a dead Money truck, and Greaseball could almost feel Electra's pain as the engine rocked back and forth, holding Purse in his arms still and closer to his chest. "What happened?"  
  
Electra said nothing to him, just continued his little conversation with his dead Purse. "Come on.... Nap time is over... wake up Purse... Purse..."  
  
Greaseball sighed, and he drew closer. Now he could see Electra's damage. One arm was frayed, and he almost puked again to see the wires this way and that. Sparks flew from his battery pack, which leaked with some kind of fluid, and his rollers were completely ruined. He needed a maintenance vehicle...  
  
"Electra, Purse is dead..."  
  
There was a crash of thunder, and the diesel looked up. He was so busy counting the bodies that he had yet to notice the darkness of the sky. And Greaseball knew an electric train could not work in the rain. "Electra, you need to get to a shelter."  
  
But the train did not move, he only shook Purse some more with what little strength he had left. No, he could not shed tears, but he could still moan. "Pursey, please, wake up! I'm your Master! I command you to wake up! WAKE UP!"  
  
Unable to stand anymore, Greaseball placed a hand on his shoulder's, feeling him tense. "Purse is dead, Electra, now, please... before you short circuit, get your ass into that mine!"  
  
"NO!" Electra shouted, jerking from his hold. He held Purse closer, not wanting Greaseball to take the only thing he had left away. "Let me have him! You can't take him away from me!"  
  
"Calm down! Nobodies taking him!"  
  
Greaseball froze when Electra zapped him, but it was weak. The AC-DC Train held Purse's limp form in his good arm, and as sparks began to shoot from his frayed arm, he turned back to his Money truck. "Purse, I'm not angry with you... please, just open your eyes..."  
  
Someone grabbed his couples and forced him to his feet. Greaseball's voice was soft, something Electra never heard before. "Don't argue with me on this... Purse is gone... and you dying won't mean anything..."  
  
Those eyes met Greaseball, and he froze under them. "No... No! NO!"  
  
Now the two fought for the body; Greaseball removed his arms from the couplers to grab Electra's arms, forcing the body to drop from his arms. Electra fought and struggled, going to pick up the truck again, but he found it getting further and further away as Greaseball began to drag Electra to the abandoned mines. "NO!"  
  
He began to struggle violently now, but it was to no avail. No, Greaseball never really cared for the AC train before, but he wasn't just going to sit around and let him die. He could almost feel Electra's pain at the moment; he must have watched the Components' deaths, but Purse was probably the final blow...  
  
However, he WAS losing his patience with Electra with every punch, kick, and zap, and Electra's damaged wheels sparked against the tracks.   
  
"Electra, dammit, settle down!" Greaseball's grip only got tighter with each blow, but he could see Electra slowly losing energy. "Save your strength for later! I can't haul you up the hill alone!"  
  
"NO! NO! NO!"  
  
"Hey, watch those- ow!"  
  
"RELEASE ME!"  
  
"ELECTRA!"  
  
Greaseball almost lost his grip, and seeing that Electra wasn't going to go down without a fight, the diesel released one of his couple and smashed his clenched fist into Electra's temple. A gasp left his throat, and Greaseball barely caught him before he completely sprawled to the tracks. "Sorry, but you brought it upon yourself..."  
  
Of course, Electra was too dazed to respond, so it was much easier to drag an unconscious engine than a struggling one. He dragged him towards the mine; that would be the best shelter until the storm was over. His only problem was getting himself to stay in the mines himself. 'You're strong, Greaseball... strong, very strong...'  
  
He told himself that over and over again until he said it aloud, but it got him and Electra into the mines just in time was the rain came down in sheets, raining upon the corpses of the components and another train. He watched them enter their shelter... and soon to be their tomb... 


	2. Chapter Two: The Station

Status Terminated  
  
  
  
"Raining again?"  
  
Pearl, the Observation Car, was bored again, as she stared outside the window of the station. The dark heavens punished the world again for a third day. Not, it was not constant, but it would rain for the SAME amount of time and the SAME time of day. It was rather annoying, especially for a coach wanting to go out.  
  
The Observation Car sighed, considering herself very lucky that she was not out in that rain.  
  
Unlike the Freights.  
  
"Oi'm soaked!"  
  
"It be rainin' again, mate!"  
  
From around the corner came Bobo. Pearl was rather surprised to see the 120 MPH Sudest there, and the poor French train rolled into the station soaked with two wet and complaining for the first time in their lives aggregates hitched to him.  
  
"Oh Bobo, are you alright?" Pearl asked, seeing the train shiver slightly. He was not used to running in the rain.  
  
Bobo, not used to English sign language, flipped her off, waving the middle finger at her. At the look of Pearl's angry face, Bobo screeched, shaking his fist and turning it into a thumbs up. 'Oh,' Pearl nodded, forgiving him.   
  
Flattop sneered, unloading his bricks and letting the water spill upon the floor with his bricks, making a horrible mess. Pearl quickly ran from the water, hiding behind the Prince of Wales (whom was there the entire time, just was so quite that no one spoke to him), fearing her dress would get wet. "Oy, Oi'm gonna rust for sure now!"  
  
"Aye! Me too!" Dustin peppered, the water leaking from him.  
  
"Hey... where's the Caboose?" The Prince of Wales finally spoke, and he knew that all the Freights (including the Rockies), were suppose to be out doing their duty today. Bobo looked at him weirdly, turn to see that he was missing a freight, and, cursing in French, quickly ran out of the station. "French... Ha!"  
  
Now Pearl felt really sorry for the French train, as he returned with an ultra wet and none too phased Caboose. His blond bangs were in his eyes, but his smile never faded, "Ah... rain... look at the bright side, I am washed!"  
  
That made the aggregates laugh, and Pearl shrugged, "Guess you're right about that..."  
  
Bobo spat, hating the rain and rolling away, muttering something in French to the smiling Royal train as he left. The rain continued outside, the howling wind mixed with a few crashed of thunder and streaks of lightning.  
  
CB, never really liking the silence, looked towards Pearl, smiling widely. She did not return the smile; she remembered his deeds during Race night and had yet to forgive him. "Aw, what's with the long face, Pearl? The rain ain't all that bad!"  
  
"Speak fer yourself!" Flattop growled, grabbing a brick and throwing it at the Red Caboose. CB ducked and ran to hide behind Pearl as Flattop reloaded. "You don't 'ave to worry about getting' stuck!"  
  
"Oh no, Flattop!" CB reared his head from under Pearl's skirt, and he would soon realize that was not the best of places to stay. "Just the bad side of that is that I'm stuck behind the BOTH of you!"  
  
CLING.  
  
It was a double whammy for the poor Caboose, and as a brick met his face, Pearl swerved and kicked him hard in the cod. He bent over in pain and she shouted, going to hit him again. Luckily, the Prince of Wales lifted her up to save him. "PERVERT! DON'T LOOK UNDER THERE!"  
  
"Woi did Pearl kick CB in the cods, Flattop?" Dustin asked, his stupid side getting the best of him.   
  
"Oi dunno... Oi always thought she WANTED trains to look there!"  
  
She suddenly turned on them, and the two bigger freights found themselves trembling under her icy blue eyes. "WHAT WAS THAT?"  
  
The Brick Truck stuttered as Dustin hid behind him. "Oy wos just merely stating that you loike to flirt and show off your ass in the first place, roight?"  
  
No, that made it worse, and the Prince of Wales watched as the VERY angry Observation car chased the two around the station. They weren't moving very fast, so poor Dustin would get a punch or kick before getting up and running some more. But the Prince did not laugh; he was just stone faced, like a soldier.  
  
CB, who was awake now, was on the floor laughing. He had recovered from the attack well, almost too well, and the Prince wondered if the Caboose was really a masochist as some people said he was.  
  
The doors to the station opened, and arriving now the current champ and 'hero' of the tracks. "Oh, look, it's RUSTY..."  
  
CB looked up and grinned, "Ohhhhh.... Flattop and Dustin are gonna crash into Rusty!"  
  
And that they did. Rusty heard them coming and as he looked, the Brick truck tried to jump over the steamer. He failed, smacking into him, and the two were unfortunate enough to be body slammed by a very clumsy Dustin. Luckily, Pearl stopped before joining the wreck, and the coaches screamed, almost getting hit as well but barely missing it.   
  
"See?"  
  
The Prince nodded, wondering if he should run over to help them or not.  
  
"ACH! I'M DYING! I'M DYING!" Rusty wailed, his lungs almost crushing under the combined weight of Flattop and the Big Hopper.   
  
Flattop punched Dustin in the face, "Get offa me, Dustin!"  
  
Dustin couldn't move, and the three coaches tried to calm Pearl down.  
  
"Calm down, Sugar!" Buffy, the kind yet smart mouthed Buffet Car, held Pearl by the shoulders.   
  
"Yeah, let us get IN before we all start to rust!" Dinah the Dining Car pleaded, hating the rain more than anything else in the world.   
  
And the last car, Ashley, sighed, lifting her hands in the air, as if to look up at the lord and ask, 'Why me?'  
  
With a single push, the train was in, and only Ashley stood as Buffy, Dinah, and Pearl joined into the small fray. It was utter chaos, and the Prince and CB could not control their laughter. It was just too humorous to watch, and Belle, awakened from her nap, entered to watch the scene.   
  
"Ach! Get offa me!"  
  
"I'M GOING TO GET YOU FOR THAT!"  
  
"Rusty, your face is changing colors!"  
  
"Ahhhhh, are you looking up my dress?"  
  
"Oh, my food is on fire!"  
  
"Let me up! Oi didn't do anything!"  
  
And Ashley, looking at her distinguished cigarette, sighed and entered the station, completely and utterly soaked. She left the others to settle their quarreling to themselves, and she greeted Belle, CB, and the Prince. "Things never seem to change around here, does it?"  
  
CB was looking up at her and he beamed. "Wipe that grin off your face and stop their fighting, okay?"  
  
"The Red Caboose, would like to be of use..."  
  
With that, the Caboose got to his feet and skated over to the intercom. Clearing his throat, he turned a few knobs on his communicator, and he braced himself for the screech. It was MUCH louder and far more annoying that he would have expected, and soon all the trains were on the floor, twitching from the HORRIBLE and excruciating NOISE that echoed around the entire station.  
  
"AHHHH! SHUT IT OFF!" Belle cried, grasping her sensitive ears.  
  
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" CB asked, looking at her.  
  
"SHUT IT OFF!" They all shouted in unison, and CB punched the intercom, smashing it to pieces. That silenced the noise, and everyone was relieved. CB laughed, trying to ignoring the ring to his ears. "Well... at least it shut you all up!"  
  
It settled the matter, and eventually, Flattop and Dustin removed themselves from poor Rusty, whom, as you might have already guessed, was far beyond unconsciousness by now. Pearl went to check on him when Buffy growled, "You know... you are FAR too optimistic for your own good, CB."  
  
"I am to please!" CB proclaimed.  
  
"So what's going on here?" Buffy asked, turning her attention away from the smiling Caboose.  
  
Dustin spurt, "I don't know!"  
  
Sighing, Ashley turned to the Prince, "Where's Bobo? I have some little issues to speak about with him."  
  
The Prince gave her such a look at echoed around the station, and she asked, "What?"  
  
"Didn't you know?" Belle looked at her, and getting a shake, she answered. "He has a new flame now."  
  
"Really?!" Ashley sounded a bit disappointed, and going to take a smoke (and realizing how useless her wet cigarette was), she asked. "Who is it THIS time?"  
  
The name echoed around, and it seemed that the only ones who didn't know were Flattop, Dustin, and Ashley. "Espresso..."  
  
The face she made was hilarious, and she threw the old cigarette away and lit a new one. "Go figure..."  
  
BANG BANG BANG  
  
They were all quiet.  
  
Rusty woke up now, "What is that?"  
  
BANG BANG BANG  
  
"I dunno... someone's banging on the wall..." Dinah proclaimed  
  
Then they heard voices.  
  
"Ow! Don't push!"  
  
"HURRY UP, MAN! I'M GETTING WET!"  
  
"DUDE!"  
  
"DUDE!"  
  
"DUUUUUUUDE!"  
  
"The Rockies..." they said, then CB was kind enough to open the doors to let the three boxcars came tumbling into the station. By the look on their faces, you could instantly tell something was wrong, and Bobo and Espresso rolled in just as Rusty asked, a little bit of concern in his voice. "Rockies! What's wrong?"  
  
All three of them broke off, and no one, not even CB, could make out what they were saying. Poor Rocky III was trembling far too much to speak. Immediately, Dinah and Buffy went to help them, getting them some towels and helping them to sit down. Finally, Rocky found his words and got his brothers to shut up. "We f-f-found Joule and Krupp dead at the bridge!"  
  
Silence, then everyone shouting. "What?!"  
  
Rocky nodded, hating the gazes. "Greaseball was taking us to some station to drop off some supplies, and we found Joule! Dead as a doornail!"  
  
"She's dead?" Dinah gasped. "And Krupp too?"  
  
"Someone... I dunno... but GB told me to get the marshals!"  
  
Rusty got to his feet. "But they're miles away! Where's Greaseball now?"  
  
Rocky II answered, "He's with the dead bodies..."  
  
"At the bridge!" Rocky III finished, shivering.   
  
At the mention of her engine, Dinah clung to Rusty. "Please! We must go there! Greaseball might be in trouble!"  
  
How could he turn down such a face, and so Rusty nodded. He looked at Bobo, the obvious faster of the Nationalities there. "Bobo, go get the marshals. Tell them to get to the bridge immediately!"  
  
Bobo, after looking towards Espresso and the Prince of Wales, nodded, and the three National engines took off, gone in a heart beat. Rusty went to leave, only to find his train was growing. Pearl gently pushed Dinah behind her, claiming Rusty to be HER engine, and Buffy took her place behind Dinah, and Ashley behind Buffy, then the Rockies, Flattop, Dustin, Belle, and lastly, CB. Oh well, Rusty thought, and he started towards the bridge, going as fast as he possibly could with the eleven cars behind him. 


	3. Chapter Three: The Secret

Status Terminated  
  
  
  
"Hey Greaseball!"  
  
The young diesel trainlet looked up at the call of his name, and he received a punch in the gut for his obedience. As he doubled over in pain, he could hear the laughter rise from his cousin. "Now stay down…"  
  
And Greaseball obeyed.  
  
Another crash of thunder woke Greaseball up from his nightmare, and he looked outside at the endless rain. He didn't realize he was sweating until some sweat trickled down his nose. 'Great… a blast from the past…'  
  
Greaseball had a rather horrible past, needless to say. A past that many would think he would announce only for attention, but it was the truth. Greaseball sighed, and he looked towards the sleeping Electra, just to make sure he was okay.  
  
He looked damaged beyond repair, and, without Wrench, it seemed that Electra was doomed to die a rather long and drawn out death. Somewhat unfair when you think of it, but Greaseball could feel only a little remorse for him.  
  
His past made him seem pretty cold, he thought, looking back at the rain. This was life; life was unfair. Eventually everyone had to bite it, right?  
  
Electra made a movement. He shivered, but nothing more, leaving Greaseball to ponder. He didn't know if the marshals would think of looking for them in the mines. Then again, he wondered if the Rockies would even remember their task. He chuckled, letting it echo throughout the cave. 'Yeah right,' he thought. 'They're probably scratching their heads...'  
  
If he knew how wrong he was, he would have probably came up with a plan of getting their attention. But he knew the risk of bringing Electra out into the rain.   
  
But even that seemed like a better idea. Sure, it would kill him instantly, but then Electra wouldn't have to suffer so much. It was obvious that whoever attacked them made it to where Electra would eventually die. One, Wrench was gone, and no one in the trainyard or the station, nor even that 'Starlight', could save him now...  
  
Again, Electra moved, but this time it was followed by a low groan and a hiss of pain.   
  
"Take it easy; your systems are REALLY damaged..." Greaseball said, rolling towards him to see if there was anything he could do to make his nemesis' death easier.   
  
"Where am I?" Electra asked, trying to sit up. His chest box began to spark, and Greaseball laid him back down with a simple push.   
  
"Some old mine... no place special..."  
  
Grunting against the pain, Electra then asked, "Where are my Components? Wrench will fix me up in no time..."  
  
That brought a little concern on Greaseball's face, and he looked away before answering, "Electra, they're dead. They're all dead..."  
  
Now the look Electra gave him was bizarre, and it was obvious that Electra did not believe him. "Oh, they're probably on holiday-"  
  
"Permanent holiday..." Greaseball added in. "Look, I know it's probably hard for someone like you to understand, but they're d-e-a-d... NEVER to be repaired again..."  
  
"No, you're lying! I zapped them a million times and they bounce right back up at my commands!" Electra sneered, now trying to get to his feet again. Greaseball just let him; maybe it would quick his death so he wouldn't have to worry about seeing the Electric train hit rock bottom. "You just wait! They'll come back when I command them to!"  
  
"Back from the dead.... no, Electra, PLEASE, just shut up." Greaseball growled, slapping him rather harshly across the face and forcing the train down again. He couldn't stand to look at his golden eyes. "The Rockies and I found Joule crushed, looking like some sort of accident."  
  
Electra quickly covered it up, "So she got into another fight with Volta... she's always playing around!"   
  
"Then we found Krupp, decapitated at the bottom of the bridge."  
  
"Krupp lost his head before!"  
  
"But you don't understand; his wires leading from his central control was torn apart from the rest of his body, thus paralyzing him, and he's been dead far too long. Besides, the rain probably damaged his system even more!"  
  
And again, Electra rose, in spite of his pain. He leaned against Greaseball for support, "What proof do you have?!"  
  
"Shut up; you don't have much longer to live and you're only making it harder on BOTH of us!" Greaseball couldn't control his voice anymore. Why did he have to roll by the bridge today? Why couldn't the rain have come earlier and canceled his duties? "Volta was maimed, and Wrench is dead with her."  
  
"And Purse..." Electra asked softly, It looked as if he was coming back to reality now, and Greaseball nodded.   
  
"I don't know his cause, but... he's dead too..."  
  
Now Greaseball was going to lay Electra back down, but the AC-DC Train did something Greaseball never saw him do before. He cried, and actual tears flowed from his eyes. It astounded him; he always thought Electra was the heartless type, to cover all of his emotions. That's what he did at race night, anyway...  
  
But no, the Electric train was crying, causing himself even more pain.  
  
And Greaseball wrapped his arms around him, trying his best to console him. He couldn't believe himself for doing this, and he spoke softly, his voice muffled in Electra's long red hair. "I'm sorry... that's really all I can say... but... I can't really know how much you cared for them. I can't relate with you on this... and I'm sorry, but... you're going to die soon."  
  
Nothing was said; the only thing that came out of Electra's mouth were painful sobs. Now Greaseball laid him down again, but this time, Electra obeyed. He could feel the Diesel's eyes upon him, even though they were shielded through his helmet. Again, Greaseball apologized, feeling completely and utterly useless. "Sorry..."  
  
Then Greaseball, getting no response again, took a seat, again to be left alone in his thoughts. His mind was a whirlpool now, trying to fight back to urge to remember this horrible place. Trying to control his emotions, to stop himself from freaking out in front of the dying engine.   
  
"Greaseball, you're so selfish!"  
  
Another punch actually brought tears, and the young Diesel kept his face turn from the attacker. That did not save him from the glare at all, though, as he trembled slightly. "What are you whimpering about? Get up and finish that load!"  
  
And Greaseball did that. In fear of being beaten again, the young diesel zoomed towards the darkest part of the mines to escape his cousin's rather and retrieve the coal trucks. His usual yellow coat was jet black, and it you saw him, you would have sworn he was just part of some weird gang. But no, all of the engines looked like this, and it wasn't til after a good washing did the other trains actually see THE Union Pacific.   
  
There he met Lube and Tank, two naturally black trucks that were even smaller than him. Lube saw the streaks down his black face and asked, "What's wrong, GB?"  
  
"Nothing," Greaseball lied, quickly turning from them and grabbing one of the coal trucks. Of course, Lube and Tank coupled to him, for their shift was over.   
  
"Oh, come on, we're friends!" Tank said chuckling, completely clueless. "Buddies!"  
  
"Come on, GB, tell us what's wrong?"  
  
Again, Greaseball lied. They didn't need to know about it; no one did. "Nothing's wrong, now shut up so we don't get late again!"  
  
"You're crying..." Electra's voice broke his deep concentration, and Greaseball rose his head to look towards him. Electra was laying on his stomach, and even though he looked like crap, he still sparkled with the little amount of light that flashed in every now and then. It looked as if his crying had stopped now; Greaseball was relieved to that.  
  
Greaseball lied, doing something was seemed fairly easy to him. "No I'm not..."  
  
Electra shot back, "Yes you are... unless you ran out in the rain..."  
  
"Go to sleep, Electra," he tried to change the subject. He was NOT going to go all sentimental, especially in front of Electra...  
  
"Not... until you tell me why you are crying..."  
  
"I wasn't crying, so I can't give you a reason why I was, now can I?"  
  
"Tell me..."  
  
Greaseball sighed, taking off his jacket and throwing it to him. "Use that as a pillow, unless your bushy Mohawk is a good enough one for you already."  
  
"Funny, haha..."  
  
"Good to see even near death you have a silly sense of humor..." Greaseball snapped. "Use it as a blanket or something."  
  
It seemed that Electra gave up, which something Greaseball was had yet to get used to. Wrapping himself in the black jacket, Electra shivered slightly, and Greaseball noticed how pale his face had become since finding him. Still, the fluid leaked from his battery pack, and he could only guess that Electra had nothing more than an hour or two to live.   
  
It was silent for a few minutes until Electra asked, "Come on, just tell me. Not like I'll LIVE long enough to tell anyone else, you know..."  
  
He had a point there, but Greaseball wouldn't budge. "Why bother. You'll still laugh at me."  
  
"Is that's what it's about?" Electra asked, his eyes dropping. He woke himself back up, determined to get the truth out of him before he officially died. "You know... let's make a deal. How about I tell you MY secret if you tell me yours."  
  
"Electra.... what could you POSSIBLY keep from me..." Greaseball chuckled, his face expressing the words 'try me'.   
  
"What do you think... of Rusty?"  
  
"Rusty? Just some little steamer that got lucky at the race, why?"  
  
Electra's answer surprised him, needless to say. "Do you think.... he and I... would be, I dunno... cute together?"  
  
"What?"  
  
That made the AC-DC Train blush, adding an odd complexion to his face, and Greaseball asked, unable to control the surprised tone in his voice, "I thought you fancied Pearl..."  
  
Electra sighed, his golden eyes dazed. Since he was going to die, he might as well spill his heart, right? It didn't matter if Greaseball made fun of him now... it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, other than the truth, anyway. "I thought I did, but after she ran off with you, I guess it was as if she was just a sample or something. She's nice, but... not exactly what I want..."  
  
Now that was a first, and Greaseball sighed, wondering exactly how much he REALLY knew of this Electric train. "But after thinking about it, and seeing Pearl go back to him, I... guess it was him..."  
  
He flinched, and immediately Greaseball caught him before his entire body hit the ground. In Greaseball's arms, he smiled, "I mean, sure, you still make me green with envy, you know... who doesn't fancy you? Strong... yeah, I would much rather you to have been champ than Rusty, then... then maybe getting Rusty would have been easier, right? Isn't everyone after the top train?"  
  
"Hush now, you're wasting your energy." Greaseball said harshly, more to the fact that he found himself blushing. He had to stay strong; maybe it will give Electra some hope... Maybe Rusty coming here would actually help him, give him hopes to live.  
  
"It doesn't matter, does it?" Electra asked, closing his eyes. "Just kind of wish... that Rusty were here... him and his stupid Starlight Express... give me one good laugh..."  
  
"Electra..." Greaseball didn't how know he felt anymore. He looked down at Electra and saw someone completely different than from that Race. He saw not only a vessel but a spirit, something many other trains said he lacked. If they would be here right now, he could prove them wrong. Greaseball sighed, wondering how in the world he could cope without another argument or ego battle. His life would be much quieter, that's for sure...  
  
"Now fess up... what's your secret?" Electra asked, looking up at him and grinning like the Cheshire cat. Greaseball gave him a look, but the AC train just snickered, snuggling closer to him for warmth. "I told you mine, now... you tell me yours... why were you crying a few minutes ago?"  
  
He could have told Electra a lie, but, looking into those darn eyes, he found himself saying the words freely. "I was raised in these mines... and really the only family I had was my uncle and cousin. Everybody else were complete strangers to me, except Lube and Tank..."  
  
"Members of your gang?"  
  
The Union Pacific nodded. "We were close then, just as close as we are now, really. I was beaten and treated like crap, and, well... let's just say that I don't like this place at all."  
  
"Ah... too many memories..."  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"You're lucky, you know."  
  
"How am I lucky?"  
  
"Because... you remember your childhood... I mean, even if it hurts to remember, at least you had a childhood." Electra's smile faded slightly, and Greaseball could see the end coming closer and closer. He drew Electra closer, letting him know that he was there to see him off as a friend now. "I was built, one out of a few, and all I remember is coming to race night and meeting you guys. Before that the Components were kind of my family..."  
  
The rain only got stronger outside, but to them it did not matter. Lightning brightened the sky, again letting Electra sparkle for one last time. Greaseball force the tears back as Electra's voice got weaker and weaker. "But... still... they died for me. Joule gave the warning, but it was too late... silly girl. Only shouts when it is not needed, right?"  
  
Greaseball gave a weak smile, and Electra continued. "And the guy was smart to take out Krupp next, that I will admit... poor Krupp... didn't even get a shot in... would have made him happier to get a shot in, even if he died shortly afterwards..."  
  
"So you DO know they're dead..."  
  
"Volta... and Wrench... I couldn't see anything going on... I wanted to get Purse to safety..." Electra's tears began to flow again, and the Diesel train wiped them away. "Guess I just wasn't fast enough, huh?"  
  
Now Electra choked, and he gasped. He had to hold on, just for a few more moments. He had more to say. "And... I lied to you..."  
  
"Lied about what, Electra?" Greaseball asked softly, his voice completely different from his casual and strong tone.  
  
Electra, with the last bit of his strength, looked up at him, gave him a kiss, and whispered, "I don't think... it's that stupid little steamer anymore..."  
  
"Electra... no..."  
  
"I... LOVE..."  
  
He held him closer, but Electra did not finish his sentence. Greaseball knew, but he dared not let him go. His arms were bonds, keeping the Electric train close to him, seeing his system finally shut down... permanently...  
  
"Electra..."  
  
The cave was silent, but the rain kept on coming.  
  
"Electra..."  
  
The AC-DC Engine of the Future's head rested lightly on his chest, a soft smile lingering, blissful death to welcome him. Greaseball let out a sob, his grip getting tighter. "ELECTRA! ELECTRA! ELE-"  
  
Then, something happened. As another flash of lightning lit up the cave, something sharp struck his open back, piercing through easily and protruding through his chest. Electra fell from his arms, and oil spurted out of his new wound. He looked at it in disbelief, then turned to face the murderer.   
  
It was a Bullet train... wielding two katanas in his powerful arms, and Greaseball couldn't stop the gasp of surprise from leaving his voice. He whispered his name, as he blacked out. "Nintendo..." 


	4. Chapter Four: Never Knock at Death's Doo...

Status Terminated  
  
  
  
Greaseball was dead, or at least he thought he was. Images flashed past his closed eyelids, images of his past, present, possible scenes of the future, and complete and utter nonsense. Greaseball wondered if he was truly dead now as it seemed his life flashed before his eyes.  
  
He saw Dinah and her beautiful waitress gown, smiling without a care in the world. He loved her truly, though sometimes he had never shown it. She was also so loyal to him when he turned her down, and sometimes he felt unworthy of her love. But that was all in the past; he was still with her and her alone.  
  
But immediately, her image was shattered like glass, surrounded by electricity bolts as the shattered glass flew about. There was mist, and Greaseball could see the silhouette of a tall train, angular yet curvy, and what appeared to be a mohawk. Yes, the electricity arose from that train... that Electric Train... the words flashed in front of him.  
  
AC-DC.  
  
It was Electra, and he was alone, something that Greaseball still had yet to get used to. But as Electra drew closer, ever so slowly closer, Greaseball could see the silhouettes of the Components behind them, rolling by for a split second before disappearing. He could see the red cross on Wrench's blades, and Krupp's muscular outlines, spinning around and around... then faded into the darkness. Joule spun for a second, struck what looked to be a pose, then crumbled, making room for her sister, who had danced and stretched before her shadows melted away.   
  
Then the last silhouette danced around him then went to join the contour of his Master. The two were close... lovingly close, and Greaseball watched as they embraced, kissed, then almost found himself crying when Purse slunk into the ground. The shadow of Electra reached towards him, but Purse did not reach back...  
  
One by one the Components abandoned their master...  
  
Greaseball was confused, then found himself staring at the eclipse in the shape of Electra's slender body. But now he could see those molten gold eyes, piercing into his soul like those electricity bolts. It varied. They felt good one time, but horrible the next. He found himself wanting more when he doesn't want non at all. Electra was a very confusing train... was this what he aims for?  
  
Then it grew cold around him, and Greaseball shivered. The shadow was disappearing, joining his components. Now Greaseball reached out, but Electra did not even turn.  
  
He was gone.  
  
Electra was dead.  
  
Tears flowed from his eyes, but they did not go anywhere. Greaseball couldn't understand.  
  
Who did Electra love? Was it him? His heart raced; what if it was him?  
  
Then he stopped.  
  
He could hear a faint heartbeat, and Greaseball followed it. Was he still alive? He saw a light, and embraced it.  
  
The light hurt... it hurt VERY much...  
  
"Wake up, sleepy head!"  
  
Greaseball shot his eyes open and saw the cause of his pain. There was a knife sticking right through his arm, and as his oil leaked out, he rose his head to stare into the eyes of the one who had spoken. "Turnov?"  
  
The Russian train smiled, though Greaseball did not truly care for it. "In the flesh..."  
  
Now Greaseball was even MORE confused. What happened to Nintendo?  
  
"Turnov... where's Nintendo? He... he killed Electra..."  
  
Turnov smiled, "I know that..."  
  
Great...  
  
Just great...  
  
Greaseball looked up again, and Turnov painfully removed the knife. He could to stop the gasp from leaving his mouth, and Greaseball went to bring in his hand when another stabbing pain froze him in his tracks. His chest felt ready to burst, and as he glanced down at it, he could see why. Yes, that was where Nintendo got him but good. And, by the looks of the amount of oil, he could tell it was meant to be fatal...  
  
"I'm right here..."  
  
Barely turning his head, Greaseball caught sight of the Japanese Bullet Train. He was sitting on a rock, his katana blade stuck into the ground and the hilt used to rest his chin upon. Half of his body was covered in shadows, but his features lit up when the lightning lit the cave. Greaseball never saw someone as terrifying looking at he was...  
  
Nintendo's Japanese features were filled with pain and anger, the complete contrast of his fellow Nationality. Turnov kept that grin, and Greaseball dared to ask. "What's going on?"  
  
The Shinkinssan Bullet train said nothing, just stared at him. It was Turnov who answered, "Where do you want us to start?"  
  
Another flash of lightning struck, and the ground light up. Greaseball saw the shadows of the Components dance on the wall, and he gasped. Why were they there? Then he turned and saw their bodies, each lined in order of when he found them. They looked even worse now, and laying next to him, was Electra. So peaceful looking, and Greaseball could still see that small smile, lingering on his face.  
  
And Electra's last word echoed in his ears.  
  
'I don't think... it's that stupid little steamer anymore... I ... LOVE...'  
  
Greaseball growled, fighting the tears that were hammering their way through. No, he couldn't cry... he can't do it in front of them. He asked, "Why? Why did you kill Electra, Nintendo? What has he done to you?"  
  
The Bullet train gave him a glare, and he spoke, his English quite hard to understand. "His kind is not liked by my people. His kind do not deserve to live no where on Earth."  
  
"I thought... I thought Electra was the only electric train," Greaseball asked, fighting off the urge to sleep, to rest his eyes.   
  
"Wrong. There are few Electric trains... one killed my entire family. Him and his Components destroyed Bullet trains throughout Japan... and they do not deserve to live."  
  
Greaseball remembered hearing a story about a train going psycho in Japan. They were testing it, seeing if it was as fast as the fastest Bullet Train. It clocked at 200 miles per hour, but it lost energy towards the end, thus giving the Bullet train the win. Then something went all wrong; he killed his opponent, and chaos pursued. Yes, its components had their part in the killing spree. "But... but that train... they destroyed him already, did they not?"  
  
To answer his question, Turnov stomped his foot hard on Greaseball's wound, and he dug deeper until he heard his cries increase by three whole decimals. He laughed, enjoying to see the quivering American diesel at his wheels. "Okay, so they decommissioned him. So what? All Electric trains had to die! Them and their Components!"  
  
"So... he died because..." when he regained his composure, Greaseball glared at the two of them, but mostly at the Russian. "... of what some other train did. Did his components HAVE to die?"  
  
Turnov laughed, "Hey, I only killed Volta. She was fun, really. Separate her from the group and let the fun begin!"  
  
Oh God...  
  
Greaseball wanted to puke. He could only imagine what that bastard did to her. He could almost hear her screams. He looked up at Nintendo, who's white face was surprisingly calm compared to his rather odd partner. "And there was no doubt that you killed Krupp... one quick slice, right?"  
  
"Hai... take out the guard first."  
  
Now Greaseball chuckled, though he hid his eyes, to hide his tears. And he didn't even have to ask about Electra. His death was slow... he was there, holding him when he slipped away. God how Greaseball wanted to kill them both right now. "And what about the others? What about Joule? Wrench? And... and Purse?"  
  
"Oh, Joule was the handy-dandy work of everyone's favorite Intercontinental Express!" Turnov rose and laughed, and Greaseball could only wonder who was loonier, him or that freaky Caboose. When Turnov finally stopped, he explained. "Her death was rather quick, though; he struck pretty fast. Too bad I was waiting at the bottom of the bridge by then. I would have loved to have seen it."  
  
Ruhrgold too? Greaseball was going to ask, but Nintendo, unsheathing his katana with a loud metallic noise. "She embarrassed him greatly... but you know too much."  
  
Greaseball knew exactly what THAT meant. And by the glint in Turnov's wild blue eyes, he began to debate on which death he would have preferred. Death at the hands of the Bullet train or at the hands of that damned Russian freak.  
  
He chose neither, and as Nintendo went to strike, a gunshot was heard. Nintendo was instantly dead as the bullet flew through his throat, and he went down silently, his weapon clashing on the ground with a loud clang. Instantly, Turnov hit the ground, his eyes darting, trying to discover the new enemy. There was no one there but Greaseball... and the gun, Krupp's gun that was in his hands.  
  
"BOZHEMOI!"  
  
This time, Turnov had his wits about him, and he was able to roll over to dodge the bullet. He hid behind a boulder, and Greaseball, with the Armaments truck's gun in one hand and his other hand to cover his wound, forced himself to his feet. If he was going to die, he was going to take that bastard with him.   
  
"Turnov! Show yourself, you heartless bastard!" Greaseball shouted, anger laced with each word. He pointed the gun at the boulder, waiting, daring him to show himself. "I'll make you pay for what you did to Volta!"  
  
It did not help that the Russian's voice echoed throughout the cave, but Greaseball kept his cool. "But you CAN'T just kill me! Not yet!"  
  
"Want to try me? Just take ONE step out into the open..."  
  
"But aren't you curious? You said it yourself; what happened to the others, right?" that voice annoyed him. He was going to be dancing with joy when he got his chance... "I won't tell you who killed who, but Wrench's death was pretty fun to watch. You should have SEEN the look on her face when she found Volta's body..."  
  
Greaseball growled. "Shut up."  
  
"... or what was left of it!"  
  
"BASTARD!"  
  
He pulled the trigger as Turnov leaped to another boulder, and Greaseball reloaded with a hiss. "Why? Why Volta? Has she done anything to you?"  
  
"Not really... at least nothing I can think of."  
  
"So, you just felt like mutilating her, right? Thought it would be fun to hear her cries?!"  
  
Something clashed into him, and Greaseball hit the ground as a green engine appeared out of nowhere. He heard a German word arise from the Engine's mouth, and he growled the name, his throat being crushed under his powerful arms. "Rurh...gold..."  
  
"Amen! For a second there I thought he was gonna get me!" That brought a sigh of relief to Turnov, and he came out into the open, wiping his brow. As Greaseball fought for his breath, he could read the German train's eyes, and he growled, not truly welcoming Turnov's presence.   
  
"Idiot! Do you know the others are coming?!"  
  
"Oh, are they? Guess we'll have to send him to Death's door and dispose of the bodies if we don't want to get caught, eh?"  
  
Turnov laughed, and he pried the gun from the Union Pacific's hands. It took a lot but it was done, and he fiddled around with the weapon for a few minutes. Now Greaseball was gasping, rather it was lack of oxygen or fear, he could not tell, but it was apparent that the German train was not as cool and carefree as his partner. "Would you stop fooling around, you idiot? Just kill him and get it over with!"  
  
Now came the argument.   
  
"Oh, dear, are you a little worried, little Ruhrgold? Worried that they're gonna find out what we did?"  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"The worst they can do is suspend us... or decommission us, but that won't undo what was done!"  
  
The world spun for a few moments, and Greaseball found himself on the ground as the Intercontinental Express lunged himself at the red train. He was stepped on a few times before he found the strength to roll away, and the two battled one another, rolling on the ground, foul words in their native tongues flowing freely. Now would have been the best time to escape...  
  
'Coward...'  
  
He began to crawl, slowly inching towards the entrance of the cave. He dung his fingers into the damp ground, sliding his heaving stomach along the ground. What good was he dead? He wanted revenge for what they had done to Electra, to the Components. He would retreat for now, come back when he was prepared... when he could be of some use.  
  
'I can't believe you're running like this...'  
  
It hurt too much to go on, but he just couldn't lay there. They were distracted! He had to go!  
  
'Look at yourself... the might Union Pacific, crawling in the mud.'  
  
Now Greaseball did give up, and he stared at the outside world, to freedom from this hell. In the mists was nothing... nothing but a mist. Was it the mist that was talking to him? He groaned, "I'm sorry..."  
  
'Just shut up, you ass. Ever since I met you, I heard all this crap about how strong you are. How WONDERFUL you are...'  
  
That voice...  
  
It was Electra.  
  
'What a wimp.'  
  
"Speak for yourself... who's dead right now?" Greaseball snapped back, the fight going on behind him now nothing but the soft sound of crashing metal.   
  
That brought a chuckle, and the voice was a bit softer. 'Touché... still, that doesn't matter, Greasehead.'  
  
"What does then?" Greaseball coughed, letting more oil spill upon the floor. "Even if I fight back... I'm going to die..."  
  
'Death is Death... don't just knock at Death's door, stupid.'  
  
Then, there was another gunshot, and Greaseball swerved around to see Ruhrgold's expression of pain. He slid along the wall slowly, and yet another bullet flew, hitting him directly in the forehead. He was dead before he hit the ground. There was no doubt that Turnov was the victor.  
  
"Oh well... I guess you could say that Wrench and Joule are avenged now, doesn't it?" Turnov chuckled, licking the warm barrel of the gun. Those eyes would have frightened anyone, and it was no exception to Greaseball. Those eyes, so filled with insanity... he now turned those eyes on Greaseball, and that smile was the only thing to combat the amount of terror his eyes gave. "Oh well... just more bodies to bury, now ain't it?"  
  
And Greaseball had a feeling his body was next.   
  
'So, you're just going to let him kill you, eh?'  
  
Greaseball turned and glared at him. Their eyes locked... and Electra's words repeated itself in his mind, as Turnov rose the gun... and Greaseball begun to formulate a plan, seeing the fallen katana from the corner of his eye.   
  
'Never knock at Death's door...'  
  
He said the words himself.  
  
"Never knock at Death's Door..."  
  
Turnov rose his eyebrow. "Vhat?"  
  
Greaseball began to laugh, and with a split second, he moved like a lynx, darting for the katana. A bullet flew, but it was too late. With a roll, Greaseball grabbed the fallen sword. Turnov turned and fired, but it was the last shot he gave. With a single slash, his arm fell to the ground, completely dislocated from his body, and with another, his head followed.   
  
"...Ring the doorbell and run... Death HATES that..." 


End file.
